Gemotions

The crisp autumn air nipped at Elias's cheeks as he stood at his mailbox. The usual bills and junk mail were joined by a single, cream-colored envelope, addressed in a familiar, shaky hand. His breath hitched. He knew the handwriting, the loops and flourishes that had once been so comforting, now felt like a punch to the gut. He tore it open, his fingers clumsy, and unfolded the letter. A wave of nausea rolled through him as he read the words of contrition, a plea for forgiveness that felt both jarring and unwelcome. He crumpled the letter and threw it in the trash, then immediately retrieved it, smoothing the paper out with trembling hands.